Shadow Road: Book 1 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy

13. Playing Games

20th of Uirra

For the next two days, I found any and every excuse to watch the quarterdeck.

The Captain announced a Revel that first evening and gave the men a 'deck leave.' Scores of brightly painted lanterns were found in the Angpixen's hold, and they were hauled out and strung between the masts, bathing the deck in a lovely multi-colored glow. Someone broke out a tinpipe and a sollensekreik, and there was music and dancing on the main deck. Even the refugees were given a sloshing-full pint of NaVarre's ale, and a few of them even joined in the dancing.

I stood back, drinking my pint slowly at the railing while pretending to watch Orrul and Lorren stomp and clap their way through a lively passant. I wasn't really paying any attention, though.

Teg came ambling over to ask if I would like to dance, but I shook my head. I was in a perfect position to observe the quarterdeck, and I didn't want to miss something.

Teg mumbled, "Maybe some other time, then," and I nodded, my thoughts elsewhere, faintly glad when he gave a little nod and went looking for someone more interesting.

My stomach was in knots. I was hoping I could find a moment when no one was looking and slip up the stairs and across to the map room door... but the quarterdeck was far too busy, and I was beginning to realize this was going to take quite a lot more work than I thought.

~~~

The next morning I sketched in my journal on the main deck, while really keeping track of the routines of every man who went up the quarterdeck stairs. How long he was up there. When he came back. Who he replaced.

After an entire day of surreptitious note-taking and counting and timing of rotations, I came to the conclusion that the acting First Mate was able to be in two places at once, there were far too many Midshipmen to be useful, and Captain Arramy's chief delight was standing up on the aft deck at all hours, glaring down upon us like a silver-headed hawk. Blast the man.

At the end of that second day, however, I discovered a tiny window of opportunity when the Lieutenant on night watch went up to the aft deck to relieve the Midshipman on duty. He seemed to be a creature of habit, this Lieutenant. He took the right-hand set of stairs, turned left, and talked to the helmsman and the Midshipman for a few minutes. The Lieutenant was also a rather entertaining fellow, apparently, because the three of them would all start laughing, and the Midshipman would linger, which meant no one was on the stairs for about five seconds.

On both nights, the Captain was at dinner when that happened.

If it happened again, the quarterdeck would be empty at precisely fifteen clicks after the sixth bell.

I hoped.

There was nothing else for it. I had to get into the Captain's cabin, and tonight was the night. The moon was hiding behind a bank of clouds. The shadows were dark as pitch.

Mistress Floratina would have thrown a histrionic fit if she knew the most useful thing I learned at Kingsford Academy was how to pull off a night raid. The only thing that remained was to convince myself that this was a simple jaunt across the river to steal an Honors trophy from Amercy School for Young Ladies. That was all. Just a prank. What eagle-eyed Captain? Arramy who?

I was going to be fine.

Twenty clicks after the Sixth Bell

"Studying again, Arri?"

"Aye, sir!"

"Keep that up and you'll have my job."

Light laughter. "I'm not aiming for your job, sir. Penweather's will do fine."

I jerked upright and stared at the door. He couldn't have finished eating that quickly. I hadn't been in his cabin for more than a minute, but there was no mistaking the Captain's low voice, or those decisive footsteps. I was about to be caught red-handed.

Frantic, I stuffed the binder back where I had hidden it before, whirled, took two strides away from NaVarre's greatdesk, and that was as far as I got before the latch lifted, the door swung open, and Captain Arramy came ducking under the low header of the frame.

It took barely half a second for him to see me. He couldn't exactly miss me, since I was standing right there in the middle of the room, frozen mid-flight like a startled hare.

For a moment we just looked at each other.

Then the Captain came all the way in, his expression long-suffering as he propped the door open with his shoulder. He glanced into the map room to make sure Arri was still there for propriety's sake, then turned his attention to me again. "What are you doing, Miss Westerby?"

Say something! Deflect! Deflect! I straightened and pasted a bright smile on my face. "Looking for you."

He raised one eyebrow.

"I want to... to thank you. Personally. For saving our lives!" I blurted, still smiling as I edged sideways around him, trying to angle myself so I could squeeze through the doorway, only to find the opening blocked by his arm.

My heart stopped.

"You're lying," the Captain said, his voice a deep, dark rasp above my ear.

I dragged in a breath and looked up before I could stop myself.

That pale-ice gaze met mine and held, showing no hint of mercy – and a spark of frank disgust.

It was too late. I could see him reading my face like a book, and he had already caught the unconscious flicker of guilt and the telltale twist of panic. Still, I tried to stick to my story. There wasn't anything else I could do. "I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered.

"Oh, I doubt that, Miss Westerby."

The way he said it – deliberately emphasizing that false last name – made me go dizzy. Suddenly, the room seemed very small, the air too thin. He knew. The certainty sank into my bones like lead. He knew I was lying about my name. He really was part of this. I blinked, my vision blurring as I imagined being 'accidentally' shoved overboard with a ballast stone tied to my feet.

Then Captain Arramy bent to put his face a scant inch from mine, our noses nearly touching. "I don't know what sort of game you're playing at, or why you were in NaVarre's cabin, and I'm too tired to care. The Travel Bureau can sort that out, and good riddance, but let me make this one thing perfectly clear. I'm not the sort of man who appreciates finding silly young women poking about his quarters. In future, you will stay out of my cabin. You will find no special favors here. Do you understand?"

Stunned, I gaped up at him, unable to look away. He thought I was silly – or, worse, that I must have made some unladylike agreement with NaVarre and was offering the same to him. For some reason that hurt. His words cut right through me, digging deep into a vulnerable spot I wasn't aware I had, even though relief came rolling right along with it. It might be insulting, but the only thing he was accusing me of was being a loose woman. He might have figured out that I wasn't Miss Westerby, but that didn't mean he knew I was Miss Warring.

I firmed my chin and stiffened my spine. "Thank you for your candor, sir," I said quietly, turning to face the doorway with as much dignity as I could muster. "I assure you this will never happen again."

For a long, tense moment he kept his hand on the doorframe, barring my exit. I could practically feel that chilly glare burning into my scalp. Then he let me pass, calling loudly to Midshipman Arri, "Master Arriankarredes, escort Miss... Westerby... back to the women's quarters. Then come back and explain to me how in blazes she got in here!"

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Sollensekreik: (soll.enz.krike), a round, stringed Lodesian instrument that is used primarily for percussion. The sound is harsh and rustic rather than melodic.